3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Grace
Before Grace made it halfway down the hall leading to the council chamber, she could hear the heated debate. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes and turn back around, she steeled herself and prepared for the hours of arguments that awaited her.
It hadn’t always been like this. Grace had begun attending council meetings at the age of fifteen.
Back then, she’d only been required to sit through an hour or two of discussions before being dismissed.
Her mother had wanted her to see firsthand how issues were resolved and how to efficiently navigate tough conversations and compromise for the betterment of Berland.
But over time, things had changed. If Grace had to pinpoint a specific moment in time, it was probably when Eamon had joined the council. Slowly, his toxic beliefs had spread to other members of the council until half the chamber was covered in his poison ivy.
His gripes varied from day to day and year to year.
First, it was finances, then it was the number of outsiders Berland took in.
Occasionally, he brought up disadvantageous trade agreements.
Every single one of his complaints all led back to the same root issue—that once upon a time, his ancestor was bypassed as ruler in favor of a matriarch.
It didn’t matter how many years had passed.
There had always been someone in Eamon’s lineage who had an issue with women in leadership, a belief he had now passed on to his son Trevor.
The complaints Eamon brought up during council meetings were nothing more than flimsy evidence of her mother’s inability to rule.
Grace wasn’t even sure Eamon believed his own bullshit, but it had proven effective in gaining supporters for his cause. In fact, a few other members of the council were now Eamon’s allies. Grace was surprised that so many had fallen for his lies and empty promises.
Lately, these council meetings had grown even more heated and tiring. It was all she could do to not stand up and walk out at any given moment, letting the so-called grownups carry on with their tantrums.
The room quieted as she entered the circular room filled with antique furniture and frowning faces.
The room had two tiers. The upper level was the outermost circle, filled with shelves of old tomes and various odds and ends.
A long table curved around the room with seats spaced evenly for each member.
There was a single break in the arched table, where two steps led down to the lower level—an empty space for presentations and displays.
Grace looked each council member over as she made her way to her seat next to her mother’s at the top of the arch.
There was Diane, the most reasonable of the council members by Grace’s standards. She held the same beliefs as Grace—that much of the fear mongering was entirely unnecessary and unjustified. Nine out of ten times she sided with Grace, so Grace offered her a friendly smile as she passed.
Then there were the more neutral council members. The ones who mostly sat back and waited until either side had exhausted their arguments before they voiced their opinions. Some days, she adored them. Some days, they irritated her beyond belief.
Violet was the eldest, and recent survivor of the attack on Grace’s mother. Her haunted blue eyes indicated she wasn’t quite over that day. Nelson’s loss had rattled them all, but even more so Violet since it could’ve easily been her.
Then there was Mason, a dark-skinned man twice Grace’s age.
Most council members were—another reason Grace was so intent on having Ali join.
They needed more young people to represent the voices of Berland.
He pushed up his thin-framed glasses and tipped his head to acknowledge Grace as she walked by.
Clayton, the man with a buzz cut and wooly sweater, sat next to Fox. Fox wasn’t his actual name. It was Finn, but his blazing red hair had earned him the nickname when he was just a child. They were in their thirties, the youngest in the group, and the easiest to sway to Grace’s side.
And then there were the others. Grace couldn’t help but grimace as she studied them huddled together on one side of the room.
Eamon, Trevor’s father, was hunched over, speaking quietly to his best friend Walter.
Then there was Maggie—a frail-looking woman whose voice reminded Grace of a snake.
Every time she spoke, it was like she was hissing.
That left two positions open. One for her mother to fill, and one for Ali.
Side conversations picked up again as Grace took her seat next to her mother.
“Glad you could join us,” her mother said quietly so the other council members couldn’t hear.
Grace matched her cool tone. “Our meeting doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. It isn’t my fault you all love to show up hours early. Don’t we sit in this room long enough?”
Irritation practically radiated from her mother’s body. She smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt, casting a pointed look at the fraying hem of Grace’s pants. She didn’t have to speak for Grace to understand her displeasure.
Grace had spent much of her life trying to live up to her mother’s expectations, hoping she would see that Grace was capable of stepping into her leadership role. But now that she was an adult, she found herself less and less inclined to appease her mother.
She was under no obligation to rule as her mother would. Grace could rule however she saw fit.
Her mother stood, and the room fell quiet. “Hello, everyone. Now that we’re all here, we can get started. Violet, if you’d like to start us off with updates.”
Ellen sat back down as Violet cleared her throat.
One by one, the members of the council gave a quick report, occasionally interrupted by Ellen with suggestions or questions. Most of the concerns brought up lacked importance, and Grace struggled to feign interest.
Then it was Eamon’s turn to speak.
His eyes met Grace’s before he cleared his throat. “I’ve come up with a short list of candidates to fill the council vacancy—”
“That’s not your responsibility,” Grace said firmly. It was the Lady of Berland’s responsibility, and her mother had already given her the power to fill one of the two positions.
Around her, the other council members stiffened. It was considered bad manners to speak out of turn like she just had, but Eamon was infuriating. He was a fool if he thought he could get away with inserting himself into her duties.
Ellen’s voice was just over a whisper when she spoke. “There will be no more outbursts like that. Understood?”
Grace didn’t dare look at her mother. She knew the look of disappointment she’d find there.
But she also couldn’t look across the room at Eamon.
Despite how quietly her mother had spoken, she was sure the entire room had heard the soft lashing.
She could easily picture the shit-eating grin Eamon was probably wearing at that moment.
Grace nodded.
“Good.” Ellen raised her voice. “Carry on, Eamon.”
“As I was saying, there are a few people I think would be ideal to fill the position. Owen is the Graysons’ youngest son.
He comes from a long line of Berlanders who have contributed greatly to this community through their businesses around town.
Everyone loves Mr. Grayson’s furniture shop, and what Sunday morning would be complete without a trip to Mrs. Grayson’s tea shop? ”
His pause for effect was filled with murmurs of agreement. Grace had to admit, even she liked to sit and drink tea there sometimes. It didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t Eamon’s decision. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he was clearly emboldened by the council’s interest.
“Owen is hardworking, and he knows the people. Knows what we all want to see in the future. Mr. Grayson has already confirmed that Owen can step down from his role in his father’s business should he be offered a council position.
“The second candidate I hope you’ll consider is Scott Montgomery.
Some of you may recall his father used to be a council member before he stepped down for health reasons.
Before that, his grandfather was also a council member.
He comes from a long line of service to the community and was practically born for this role.
I still recall the days when he used to tag along to meetings when he was just a few years old.
Such a clever kid. We used to joke that he was the youngest member of the council. ”
Eamon finally looked toward Grace and smiled, knowing how much it would irritate her.
The eldest members of the council smiled and chuckled alongside Eamon, recalling some decades-old memories of a young Scott playing in this very room while they conducted business.
Apparently, nostalgia held a lot of persuasion.
“Thank you, Eamon,” Ellen said. “We will consider these options.”
Grace’s head swiveled toward her mother. “May I?”
After her mother nodded, Grace addressed the room. “I’ve already decided on who I’d like to join the council. Pending her acceptance, Ali, the newcomer from Andus, will be joining us.”
There were a few nervous glances and hushed whispers from the council members, but Grace was most interested in Eamon’s reaction. She could tell even from across the room that he was grinding his teeth.
Good.
“That’s outrageous,” he said calmly. He knew better than to share his wrath in front of the council.
“What’s outrageous is you thinking you have any say in the matter.”
“You ungrateful—”
“That’s enough,” Ellen said, pressing two fingers to the space between her eyebrows. She moved them in circles, massaging the headache Grace knew was brewing.
Her mother looked more tired than usual, and even though Grace was confident in her decision to bring Ali into the council, she felt bad for causing her mother so much trouble.
She didn’t do things to be spiteful. It was what she truly believed was best for the people of Berland.
Maybe one day her mother would see that.